


One Minuteman, Two Minutemen

by TheBetterAngelsOfOurNature



Series: Patience of a Saint [6]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Another Settlement Needs Your Help, Did We Mention That Settlement Needs Your Help?, Just Friends, Short, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 06:18:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10679439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBetterAngelsOfOurNature/pseuds/TheBetterAngelsOfOurNature
Summary: This is just a really short one-shot that I wrote to kind of take a break from over-arcing plot, establish Eliza and Preston's platonic friendship, and just do something quick and light.





	One Minuteman, Two Minutemen

 

Preston found me down by the bridge; he had been patrolling the perimeter, his trusty laser musket in hand.

“General,” he cried in relief, “I thought you'd left already. I've been meaning to tell you something.”

“What is it, Preston?”

“We've received word from another settlement that needs help,” he explained, “Tenpines Bluff. Here, I'll mark it on your map.”

I held out my Pip-Boy as he tapped in the codes. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Raiders shot one of their people,” Preston said grimly, “and they're being held up for five hundred caps.”

“Five hundred caps?”

“I know, it's insane. Nobody's got that kind of money just lying around.”

I stopped pulling caps out of my pockets. “They don't? But... jeez, I walk around with about 1,000 caps just for emergencies...”

Preston's eyes popped. “Holy Brahmin, that's a lot of caps!”

I stuffed them back into my pockets, embarrassed. “I just don't know what to buy! I mean, I buy ammunition and food and Stimpaks, but there's only so many of those I can carry...”

“Why not buy shipments of supplies for Sanctuary,” Preston suggested, “so you don't have to go around picking up all that junk.”

I paused. “Could I get a lead shipment?”

“Of course.” Preston leaned against the Sanctuary sign. “Check Bunker Hill; if it can be sold, you can buy it at the Hill.”

“Great idea, Preston.” I looked at my map, marking Bunker Hill. “I'll hit Tenpines Bluff, then Bunker Hill, then swing all the way back to Sanctuary.”

“Need company? That is, if you're not already traveling with the Detective,” Preston added quickly.

I paused. Technically Nick wasn't traveling with me; he was just staying at Sanctuary for a few days. I saw no harm in Preston coming along, except...

“Do you think these people can handle you leaving? I mean, you're kind of their guardian angel,” I said.

Preston gestured towards the six turrets I'd built before I left for Diamond City.

“Good point,” I said.

“So, mind if I tag along?”

“Don't mind a bit,” I said with a smile, “Let's hit the road, Preston.”

 

We did hit the road, and the road sure wanted to hit us back. By the time we climbed the hill to Tenpines Bluff, we'd already waded through three dog packs, four Raiders, three Bloatflies and a radioactive Mirelurk. Preston was still irritated about wasting ammo on the Bloatflies when we got there. However, as soon as we stepped into view, a woman came running towards us.

“Oh my God,” she cried, “are you with the Minutemen?”

“Ma'am, we _are_ the Minutemen,” Preston said.

“What can we do to help,” I added.

“These Raiders, they're gonna kill us all! They came a few weeks ago and nearly killed my brother.” The woman was crying; the tears funneled down her cheeks, cutting clean marks through the dust and grime. “They said they'd be back in a few days, but... they want five hundred caps, and I just don't have that kind of money... They said if I don't pay, they were gonna kill us!”

“No one's going to kill you,” I said firmly, “I mean it. Tell me where these Raiders are, and I'll make sure they won't bother you any more.”

The woman sniffed and wiped her cheek, taking off a large smear of dirt. “They're in Station Olivia.”

I blinked. _No way._ “Wait, USAF Station Olivia?”

She nodded. “Please hurry. I don't know when they'll be back. My brother's okay now, but he's not in a fit state to fight, and I'm not much of a shot.”

“Ma'am, you don't have to worry.” I held up my hands. “I actually killed those Raiders myself a week or so ago. They shot the Abernathy's daughter, Mary.”

“That was them?” The woman's eyes widened. “I heard one of the Raider gangs had been wiped out, but I didn't think to hope... wow!”

Preston looked at me, grinning. “You're solving problems before you even know they're there.”

The woman shook both of our hands, beaming. “I really don't know what to say! Thank you, thank you so much! We thought we were dead for sure.”

“Just remember that this is all thanks to the Minutemen,” I reminded.

The woman looked back in a little wooden shack. A man, presumably her brother, was lying on a mattress. He smiled and gave her a thumbs-up.

“We were talking... if you managed to come through for us, we were going to join the Minutemen.” She looked up at us through tear-stained eyelashes. “I know we're a garbage settlement and we don't have much to offer, but... if you need us down the road, don't worry. We'll be there.”

“You're not a garbage settlement,” Preston said, “you're a part of the Commonwealth, and that makes you just as important as Diamond City.”

“Since the Raiders are taken care of,” I said, “what else can we do to help?”

It turns out there was plenty to do. Preston and I ended up building a small proper house, installing a water pump, planting tatoes, and building a turret out of scrap metal, the remains of a hot plate, and a can of oil. Preston wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

“I think I'd rather take on a pack of ferals than build another one of those again,” Preston said as I set the turret up on the mount.

“It wasn't that bad. This kind of thing is like building a computer,” I explained, “just circuitry and a basic process. I used to fix the computers at the law office all the time. Nick says I've got a knack for it. Power armor... now that's a different story. When it comes to power armor, I'm lost.”

“You didn't look lost when you punched that Deathclaw right in the nose,” Preston laughed, “in Concord? That was the best thing I've ever seen.”

I grinned. “Yeah, and then he high-fived me and broke the arm pieces right off the frame.”

Preston laughed. That night, we crashed on the floor of the newly-built house and rose with the dawn. Trekking down to Bunker Hill was a long walk, and the swarm of bloatflies that buzzed about didn't make it any more pleasant.

“I hate wasting ammo on those things,” Preston said.

“Me too.” I stepped over the festering corpes of the bloatflies.

Preston peered at the skyline. “I see the obelisk. Bunker Hill's not too far behind.”

We crossed a bridge and took a left. Almost instantly, bullets peppered the ground.

“Raiders!” Garvey ducked behind an old news stand. “Damn, exactly what we don't need.”

I dodged behind a bus stop, then edged out to see where the Raiders were. There were three, crouched in various positions around a blue-and-white building that I vaguely recognized as the BADTFL headquarters.

“They're at the baddie HQ,” I said.

Preston made a face. “The what?”

My face burned. _No pre-War slang, Eliza. Get it together._

“The police station, I mean.” I reloaded 111 carefully. “The BADTFL headquarters. Three of them.”

Preston looked over the news stand. “I see 'em.”

He cranked his laser musket, took aim, and fired. A cry of pain told me he'd hit his target. I ducked out from the bus stop long enough to fire three or four rounds into a Raider as he charged forwards with a pool cue. He dropped the pool cue; I kept firing until he dropped, too.

“Nice shot,” said Preston.

“Are you kidding?” I reloaded, frustrated. “That guy just ate twelve bullets.”

“One left,” Preston warned.

The last one chucked a Molotov between our hiding places; both of us dove away from it. I ran around the bus stop and towards the last Raider. I barely had time to raise my pistol before a bolt of red energy pierced through the Raider and he dropped.

“Darn it, Garvey.” I grinned at Preston, who lowered his gun. “That one was mine.”

“You can have the next one.” Preston reloaded with a small smile. “Always more to go around.”

There was a scuffle, and another Raider ran out into the middle of the road. He stopped and stared at the three corpses slowly bleeding out onto the cracked sidewalk.

"What the fuck," he screamed.

Preston and I raised our weapons simultaneously.

_Always more to go around._


End file.
